


Sheltered

by Lulatic



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bonding, Dream Smp, Gen, Healing, Introspection, Opening Up, Post-Betrayal, Techno-centric, This ISNT rpf its of the characters ffs, Trust Issues, and how it affects how he sees ranboo, found family (kinda), techno deals with tommy's betrayal, theyre workin on it lmao, tommy is mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 02:34:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29128062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lulatic/pseuds/Lulatic
Summary: It was cold outside. But Techno never heard Ranboo complain.That was the best excuse he could muster to keep him out.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), Ranboo & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo & Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 23
Kudos: 898





	Sheltered

**Author's Note:**

> this was meant to be me trying to parse how fics of this nature would work. here i am. 6000 words later  
> i cant write in moderation 
> 
> ANYWAYS. this isnt of the people themselves but of the characters they portray on the dream smp. absolutely no romance thats fuckin weird. theyre jus vibing. yknow. tryna figure out how to cope with shit. all that good stuff

He can see him. Perfect view from his windows, the light snowfall barely obstructing sight of the dodgy wooden stilts holding his roof up, the dark oaken lean-to against the base of the mountain. There’s smoke rising. A dull orange glow burns. 

Technoblade finds himself watching a lot lately. 

Ranboo is only a short walk away, yet the distance stretches daunting from the warm walls of Techno’s house to the hovel Ranboo created. Technoblade is reading, or at least pretending to read the weathered novel in his hands. He keeps finding himself looking up, out the window, through the heavy clumps of snow scratching through his vision.

The light of Ranboo’s campfire is bright, glowing through white snow. It’s annoying, Technoblade decides. It’s distracting. 

He doesn’t look up at the sound of the front door creaking open, wind hushing in cold for just a moment before it’s shut rough. He doesn’t need to check who it is; he recognized the familiar light-but-steady footfalls of Philza as he walked up the stairs. 

There was the familiar sound of feathers brustling, Phil humming something under his breath as he passed by Techno. But he hesitated a moment, Techno flicking his ear in the other direction as if he wasn’t listening to each sound. 

“Hello, mate,” Philza drawls out. Techno looked to him as acknowledgement for a slight moment, back to stare down at the blank words on the pages of his unread book. The guise didn’t even work on himself, seconds passing before he instead looked out to that tepid light outside. It flashed dull every once in a while as a figure moved in front of the campfire.

Philza clicked his tongue, leaning heavy over Techno and squinting out the window. Technoblade decided not to react. “What’re you looking at?”

“Nothin’.”

“Okay I’ll say that different,'' Phil sighed, “why are you staring at Ranboo? And don’t say you’re not.” Philza rushed the last few words in one breath, stopping him dead in his tracks. Mouth hung open in an unlived response, Techno clenched his teeth just with a huff. He didn’t bother with a response.

The slight annoyance could be heard as Phil sighed low, dumping his things into a sopping wet mess in front of the blazing fireplace and wringing out his fur cloak to dry over the brewing stands. “Whatever! Don’t answer. Not like I value your conversation or anything.”

Techno slowly, menacingly met Phil’s eyes with a turn of his head. He stayed silent again, more out of spite this time. Phil had the decency to laugh it off with a shake of his head.

“But anyways,” he hummed and Techno already had a hunch of where this was going, “there’s dark clouds over the mountains. Heading this way. I think it’s going to snow all night long. We should let the kid in.”

“No.”

“Aw c’mon!” Philza wasn’t surprised in the slightest. Still, he practically shoved Technoblade out of the way to throw himself towards the window, Techno snarling something at him when he way too obviously threw the window panes open and practically shoved his head out of the window. “Look at him over there! He doesn’t even have walls, Techno.”

The way he crossed his arms was harshly exaggerated. “Him not knowing how to build a house right doesn’t make him my responsibility.” 

Phil’s frown pulled his entire face down, eyebrows creased. “It’s a shack….” A thick pause, silence save for the crackling of the fire. Then Phil breathed heavy through his nose and pushed off the woolen lounge. 

“Fine! I’m gonna rummage through your things for some spare clothing and blankets,” he said without a question, “to make sure he doesn’t freeze to death.”

He didn’t utter a word back, watching as Phil shifted down the hatch, wooden rungs creaking and croaking as he left sight. 

The snow outside had thickened, hazy chunks falling dense through the air. The flickering light of the campfire was obstructed: Techno recognized Ranboo’s thin frame, stood tall. He was staring back. 

Technoblade closed the window tight and busied himself for the rest of the night. 

* * *

He hated that feeling. That something was happening again. That he’d been here before. Almost like nothing changed, yet still the circumstances were completely different. 

Ranboo was tentative, anxious. Afraid. He barely had a presence anywhere near the walls of Techno’s house, the closest sign of his existence being the stumbling footsteps through the snow and the shack he constructed.

Yet technoblade was all too aware of him. He was in the walls, the corners of his vision, that feeling of being watched. 

It was in his head, he _knew_ it was all in his head. The paranoia had gotten to him, that feeling of not being alone of having someone he _barely knew_ on his territory was gnawing at the back of his skull. 

The voices were no help, as they never were. Static noise that prattled on, both hushed whispers and yelling at him like damned souls. 

Somehow, the voices liked Ranboo. 

“We can’t do that,” Techno huffed and muttered after a particular insistent bout of chanting that they let Ranboo in. He was frowning heavy, guttural growls in the back of his throat. He’d gone to sharpen his blades for some peace of mind, something that always calmed him with repetitive motions and that security of power in his hands. This time, it only gave the voices reverberating in his skull too much room to chatter. 

“Why would we do _any_ of that?” He said with a groan, the insistent words of _Ranboo, Ranbrother, Ranboo, let him in!, E, let him in,_ in his brain like fuzz. “I don’t know him.” The harsh slice of the whetstone against metal wasn’t as soothing as usual. 

But it was true, Technoblade didn’t _truly_ know Ranboo. He’d given him his armour back, although after having some hand in taking it in the first place. All he really knew was that Ranboo had never crossed him, had been there to watch the government of L’manberg rot from the inside out first hand, and that Philza trusted him. 

That last point would have been enough for Technoblade to be more lenient, at some point at time. But Technoblade had thought he’d known people before. 

“Guys,” he hummed out, holding up his sword and flicking it back and forth to watch the shine of the lantern light against it. “Think of Ranboo like… an injured animal Phil took in. alright? It can bite but I can’t like. _Kill_ it or anything. Phil would be upset for a week or two at that--”

A sudden clattering crash outside made Technoblade jump up, sword clenched tight in his fist. The chatter in his mind screamed about the door, about Ranboo.

Technoblade somehow hadn’t realized the door was slightly ajar. Nor the figure who’d been in it, now against the railing. Glass bottles were shattered on the porch by his feet, honey and water oozing down his pants and dress shoes. 

But more than anything, his eyes were wide. He locked on Techno. His whole body tensed when Techno slowly raised his head, meeting his eyes for a split second. 

“s-Sorry! Sorry!” He yelped, moving slowly as if Techno would pounce at a sudden movement. “I was just… uh…. Carrying some things over and… you… were b-busy and!....” He clamped his mouth shut for a moment, hissing in a staticky breath. “Sorry I just gotta….” 

Ranboo laughed painfully. It took Techno a confused moment before realizing he kept glancing down to his sword. “Oh,” he hissed out between his teeth, relaxing his shoulders. “Hey, I just--”

At the slightest step forward, Ranboo made a low shriek that sounded like an awkward garbled laugh, shuffling towards the steps. “Sorry sorry! I’ll just uh-- I’ll go and. And put this back and I’ll clean this up!” He laughed again, more disjointed and inhuman. Techno held up his hand but Ranboo just flinched. 

“I’ll clean it up! Sorry!” He shouted a final time before bolting, nearly tripping down the stairs. 

Technoblade was left in the silence, feeling shell shocked. He moved slow forward, closing the door. The voices chastised him, like gnats buzzing around his head. _Idiot, stupid, what a nerd, technodumb, L, L._ For once, he agreed with them.

Technoblade let out a low, rasping groan as he slammed his forehead against the door. 

* * *

It snowed almost endlessly for about three days, after Phil pressed him to invite Ranboo in. 

Technoblade’s house is warm, insulated, safe. He leaves it slightly less, the chill of freezing wind and snowflakes on his bare skin not something he’s ever particularly enjoyed. He forces himself busy. He forces the windows closed. 

Phil doesn’t ask to let Ranboo in again, but he checks up on him practically daily. He leaves out in the mornings to collect firewood or hunt, always bundled up with more layers than he needs. When he returns, his coats are always layered thinner, only half the firewood making it into Techno’s walls. 

Technoblade doesn’t really get it. Well, he _understands_ it. Philza was always a bit of a bleeding heart, under quiet impulsiveness and that strong but soft exterior. A Walking oxymoron; he’d rain explosives and summon monsters of charred bones on an entire city, then turn around and shelter one of it’s occupants. Technoblade wasn’t surprised in the slightest.

But he didn’t _get_ it. 

He thought it over a lot, how Phil seemed to extend such trust and care to Ranboo even though he barely knew him any longer than Techno did. Drawing out the lines in his mind, moving the pieces and trying to solve the ‘why’ like it was an equation. He could rationalize it. He couldn’t _feel_ it. 

In a moment of idiocy, he asked something that had pushed through the occupants chattering in his skull. 

“Did you take him in to do right by Wilbur?”

Phil was loud, yelling and barking out words and his laughter something shrill and choking. But he was silent at that. That kind of anger that is soft, and slow, and quiet. With anyone else he would have probably taken the silence as ignorance, or not having heard him. But he knew Phil well enough to know he fucked up. 

“Techno.” Phil’s voice was held tight in his throat. That primal instinct of _dangerous_ made Techno tense. 

“My son is dead. I would never replace him.” The floorboards didn’t even creak as he left. “Ranboo just needed someone. He can’t struggle alone like you force yourself to.”

Phil slipped out into the blizzard, his footsteps filled in minutes. Technoblade didn’t bother to follow him, he simply sat alone and let himself stew in it. The voices chastised him but were strangely quiet, vacant. It somehow felt worse, that way. 

He deserved it this time, though. Technoblade forced himself to stop puzzling over something he couldn’t really understand. 

Philza returned late in the night, when the sun was just starting to consider rising. Techno was awake as soon as he noticed the presence quiet in his house. Or more notably, the shine of gold through the dark, slid across the nightstand to the side of his cot by calloused hands. 

“Phil,” he said, voice gruff as he grumbled awake, forcing himself sat upright. “You don’t have to… apologize.” 

He couldn’t quite see it, but he knew Phil smiled. “I know, mate.” He hummed, “I’m not.”

The darkness is quiet, and all encompassing, and oppressive. His chest hurts and his bones ache. “Phil,” he sighs out from deep in his chest. “I…”

Phil’s hands are rough on his shoulder, but a barely-there shadow over him. He pretends he doesn’t lean into it. 

“Yeah, I know Techno,” he says, “I’m here.”

Technoblade doesn’t know how Phil knows he wasn’t going to say sorry, either.

* * *

“I… Have a present for you, actually.”

Technoblade decides in that moment that Philza is entirely to blame for this scenario. As soon as the clouds broke and the snowfall lightened, he’d practically pushed Techno out the door and towards Ranboo’s makeshift home. With words of totems and roughly scrawled out maps and massive, daunting manors, Phil gestured in Ranboo’s vague direction then took off.

That bastard. Techno decided he was dead to him.

“A present,” he repeated blankly, like he could twist the meaning of it between his teeth. “.... I like presents.”

Ranboo stood around the back of his house, his tall figure not cutting a daunting visage as he fiddled and twiddled his thumbs, not seeming to be able to stop fidgeting or stand up fully. Techno has to bite his tongue to keep from saying some snide remark in a half witted way to ease the tension.

`”I made this,” he started, reaching to one of the tools holstered at the waist of his netherite armour. “For you because ah, I know you lost your axe when you were blowing up a country.” 

He was anxious, hands just a little unsteady as he held the netherite axe out to Techno. But he was so earnest to establish some form of trust, not backing down in the slightest despite the way his arms quivered. Techno would find it respectable, maybe admirable even, but he was too busy trying to comprehend this.

“Cool,” he said so very aptly, the voices screaming and shaking the confines of his skull. _Ranboo, AWW, Ranboo!, hes so sweet, awww, adopt him, RANBOO._

Taking the axe in his hand, Technoblade smoothed his fingers over the untanned leather covering the hilt. He could feel it instantly that it was slightly off weight, a bit too heavy towards the end of the hilt. Most likely that Ranboo didn’t sand it evenly, or forgot to. He could see a couple blotches on the deep off-purple blade that weren’t polished evenly, not shining quite as much.

Some deep buried instinct made him tighten his fingers around it so harshly, as if he never wanted to let it go. 

“This is… acceptable.” He hummed, holding up the axe and chopping a few good swings through the air like he was inspecting it, lips in a thin line. He kept his jaw clenched tight.

“I mean I… I suppose I could find some use in this,” he hummed out. Rambo watched him as he turned away and towards his own house, clapping his hands together and nodding sagely. Techno felt he saw right through him. “It’s--it’s satisfactory.”

“Good!” He said it loud with a chuckle as he followed behind Techno, although the ebbing relief in his voice was evident. “Hopefully you can get something out of it. I didn’t inscribe any name in the hilt like you do, either. Figured you’d… ah, do that.”

“Hm… perhaps. Ah…” He sniffed, gulping down at the twisting feeling rising up from his chest. The sounds of cooes and ‘aws’ made his face warm. “It’s…” 

Walking up the front stairs, he halted on the porch. Ranboo stood below, looking up at him from between Techno’s house and the decrepit dog kennel. He was watching Techno tentatively, curiously, the edges of his mouth in a slight snide smile. Techno couldn’t stop his blathering.

“I-I _guess_ I’ll find some use for… this. Thing.” He stammered, holding the axe up like it was some foreign object to him. “It’s… this is-- this doesn’t make us _friends,_ though okay?” He snorted out with a stiff gesture down towards Ranboo.

The voices screamed their cooes with a new mix of panicked cries, anguished and groaned words of _you’ll scare him off! He’ll get upset, oh noooooo, technomean._ And for a brief moment Techno suddenly worried the same thing.

But Ranboo just looked up at him for a few seconds, eyes wide before he smiled. “Oh, uh. Yes. Yes of course.” He stands tall, not so hunched over and curled into himself. “It’s uh… No big deal or anything.”

“Yeah yeah exactly--”

“--Kinda like. It’s like rent.”

“--like it doesn’t _mean_ anything-- _yeah it’s rent!”_ Techno practically yelled, not really noticed how Ranboo struggled to keep himself from smiling as Techno latched on to that one excuse. “It’s a payment. Rent. for that uh… your house over there. That’s it. Rent.” 

Techno was answered with a hummed affirmative, them both suddenly left in a tense, cold silence out in the tundra air. Techno gulped, tapping his fingers against the leather hilt of the axe, nearly going and saying something probably awkward to try and cut through the air only to have Ranboo beat him to it. 

“So, I uh, was planning to go and explore one of those woodland mansions for totems--”

“Yeah let’s head out then,” he choked out in a quick, strained breath, Technoblade practically vaulted over the railing to get down the stairs. Ranboo yelped and nearly fell back into the snow.

* * *

The final attack on L’Manberg should’ve been more cathartic than it was. Technoblade’s skull was always filled with the cacophonic cries for blood, for violence and rash actions. He’d fought against acting in ways he couldn’t take back, but even he craved a sword in his hands and impacts with his fists, the feeling of bruises forming and the risk of harm. Explosions, revenge, giving in to both the pained cries of the voices and his own emotions… it should’ve been a recipe for relief.

It was, in the moment. He yelled his voice raw, felt the heat of tnt threaten to scorch his skin, he’d gotten blood on his hands and in his teeth. He’d burnt it to the ground, watched buildings go up in flames and gargantuan creatures of twisted bones soar overhead all while Phil’s shouts and laughter echoed over the developing crater. 

It was done with. Over. L’Manberg was gone. Techno still felt like something was deeply wrong. 

It was obvious enough that Tommy was the cause. Technoblade wasn’t idiot enough to try and pretend otherwise. 

Tommy had been the last one to get close to him. Truly close. Technoblade had never been one to trust easy, he’d always kept those who he was unfamiliar with at arm length. There’d never been reason for him to let anyone past his walls; he had a reputation of something fierce and inhuman, untouchable. He didn’t need anyone but Phil, regardless of how hollow isolation felt sometimes. 

His reasoning for harbouring Tommy, even hiding him within his home, was nonsensical and he knew it. There was little benefit from the _partnership_ he’d proposed. It’s not like Tommy would have been able to help him destroy L’Manberg in a genuinely beneficial way. He didn’t need any information on the government body, any leverage or leeway. It would’ve been easy enough to walk into their borders and rip the government to shreds all on his own. 

He’d been a bleeding heart, sheltering Tommy when he didn’t need to. Even when his own instincts roared at the way Tommy shuffled through his valuables and took without care, even when the voices bickered and argued and were divided on whether to cherish Tommy or to kill him. Despite it all, he’d let him stay. And he’d cared for him.

His axe had been taken from him and Tommy had turned his back on him as soon as Techno had admitted to finding friendship and companionship in him. 

Maybe it was the bitterness of it, the residual anger and hurt. It left something acrid in the back of his throat and made his ribs burn and caused him to lay awake at night recalling how Tommy had yelled at him from amid the wreckage as the world continued to decay around him. 

Technoblade was bitter. And upset. And hurt. The one time he opened up ended with a sword in his back. He couldn’t do it again.

Ranboo wasn’t like Tommy. He could understand it, could rationalize that they were two completely different people. It was unfair to Ranboo. He was being unfair to him.

But Technoblade couldn’t help it. He couldn’t go through that again, 

Sometimes, he wished Tommy had left a scar, a wound, something physical and tangible. Maybe then he could excuse how much it hurt.

* * *

The few days after the snow storm had ended up only being a brief moment to breath; Philza had seen how the clouds were billowing and how the air twisted far over the horizon and warned Techno ahead of time. 

He’d warned Ranboo too. He had a soft spot for him, and after Techno had spoken sourly of what that meant, Phil had become somewhat more adamant that Techno let him in to their home. 

He never forced Techno’s hand, still. What had gone from pointed looks in his direction had evolved to comments on the poor integrity of Ranboo’s home, how even the firewood Phil supplied didn’t do much, that Ranboo didn’t complain but he _really should._ Nothing explicit, but blunt enough that it even got through Techno’s dismal awareness of social cues. 

With every thundering gust of freezing winds against the glass panes, the voices started to sound more and more like Phil too: _it's too cold, ice burn he’ll get hurt, let Ranboo in, help Ranboo, Ranboo, Ranbro, Technomean._ They liked him, strangely enough. Cared about him even. All through the time Tommy spent under his floorboard and in his homes, the voices had remained conflicted, arguing amongst themselves and chattering so violently whenever Tommy was around. His presence alone had been a constant headache. 

That was another difference with Ranboo. The voices were nothing more than an ignorable hum, only rising in volume to chant his name at most. He didn’t understand it. Or, he didn’t want to. He chose not to understand.

The house was warm, the outer walls and windows rattling under the screaming winds. Techno was left watching out the window, knowingly towards Ranboo’s home despite the sleet piercing through the air obstructing his vision completely. 

Philza was humming some tune Techno only vaguely recognized from behind him, He only fell silent as he stepped beside where Techno sat, pushing a cup of tea into his hands. Techno took it with a grunted thanks and a nod of his head as Phil slid into place on the couch beside him. 

“It’s really comin’ down,” he hummed, blowing the steam away from his tea. Techno took a sip, nodding his head. “N’ you said it’d last what, a week or two?” Phil’s responding sigh told enough, but he still continued. “Yeah, I’m thinking so. I could’ve been judging the skies from the north wrong but…” 

“You? _Wrong?”_ Techno let out a guttural snort, shaking his head at the idea of it. Phil knew him well enough and laughed with him. “C’mon, Phil. I can’t remember the last time you’ve been wrong on…”

“Ah, yes thank you. I _am_ always right.”

“No no no don’t get inflated from that,” Techno chuffed, lightly kicking Phil in the ribs with his hooved foot. “You’ll get all cocky and then what? A baby will bite your ankles and you’ll die? Boo, old man. Can’t have that happen again.”

Phil rolled his eyes and tutted, muttering something about ‘that one time’ under his breath before they fell into a companionable silence. The mug was warm and comforting in Techno’s hands, the fire crackling behind him a constant tangible reminder of the cold trying to leech inside. He found himself looking out in Ranboo’s direction again. He shivered at the cold.

“You know,” Phil hummed in that pointed way that made techno frown. “I hadn’t thought of it before, how endermen deal with snow. Is it just like water?” He wasn’t expecting a response and Techno wasn’t going to give him one anyways, save for a silent flick of his ear. “So I asked earlier today. Ranboo said it was all the same.”

There was that silence then, thick in the air. The sun was just near to setting, the short days of the far North leaving little light to be appreciated; seldom warmth was left in the air, a mixture with the harsh falling snow. Technoblade saw the distant, muzzled light of Ranboo’s campfire. His fingers tightened around his mug. 

“I hope it’s not too harsh on him,” Phil said, “the snow and the cold. Do you think he’s all good, mate?”

“He hasn’t complained.” He bit sharp into the meat of his cheek, not looking at Phil but knowing he was looking right back at him. “He’s choosing to stay out in that shack.”

Phil’s sigh bordered on a groan, something almost disappointed not surprised. Techno had become familiar with it recently. “I don’t think he feels he’s _allowed_ to complain,” he pointed out obviously. “And where else would he go? That shack’s all he got.”

Techno grits his teeth together. The voices in his head are nearly as scathing as the implications of Phil’s words. “He’s fine.”

Phil has that way of saying words without speaking them exactly. Or maybe Technoblade was just so attuned to his friend he could actually parse social cues and body language with him. Either way, Techno saw the way Phil was looking at him, to the cold air between their home and Ranboo, and his ribs were packed full with rocks. 

“Fine isn’t all that good.” Techno gulped and stood up. “I just--”

“I’m heading out,” Technoblade huffed, practically marching out the door, narrowly forgetting to pull his cloak off the wall. “Don’t stay up for me.”

Phil yelled out his name, but he chose not to hear it through the slamming of the door. 

* * *

It was dark. And cold. The snow pierced like ice, diving sideways between the overcast of leaves and the trees reaching up into the black sky all around him. 

Bones clattered to the ground and crunched under his boots. The smell of acrid, putrid flesh and blood stained the shine of his sort to something dull. The hiss of creepers were always silenced just seconds before too late, his blade piercing their unnatural papery skin. 

Technoblade was angry. He wanted to be angry at something, someone. He wanted blood on his tongue and under his nails and that relief of victory. But instead his muscles were sore from running through the underbrush and his mouth was rasping dry and it wasn’t enough, 

He hadn’t gone far, had some piece of mind that he didn’t want to get buried all night under a snowstorm. But even the sky had somehow found peace, snowflakes only falling slow and soft now. He found it another reason to be upset. 

The voices were near quiet for once. Maybe because he was beating himself up enough that he didn’t need more crude words and sharp tongues in his skull besides his own.

He couldn’t say it aloud but Techno had little reason to distrust Ranboo. He had given him the netherite axe, he’d gifted him more emeralds that he didn’t want and a netherite shovel he never would need. Half the time Techno went to check on the hounds they were all fed and brushed and he never had to ask who it was. The honey farms moved fluidly with his help and Technoblade couldn’t stand it.

He’d done more than Tommy had. He’d been politer than Tommy had. He’d been gentler than Tommy ever had. Why was he comparing them still?

Techno yelled as he swung his full weight behind his blade. The zombie’s head severed clean off with a pop, his sword imbedding into the bark of a tree. He huffed and breathed harshly, giving himself only a brief moment. An experimental tug of his sword didn’t give him much confidence, making him grit his teeth together so hard it hurt. 

He propped one foot on the tree trunk, breathing in deep before pulling on his sword with two hands--it slipped out of the bark like it was butter. Off balance, Technoblade felt himself falling back into the snow and let it happen, bracing as his spine connected with ice. 

It was cold on his skin, even permeating quickly through the cloak. He hated the cold, hated how it felt against his skin and how all encompassing it felt. He let himself lay there and hate it for a few strong moments.

Technoblade was angry at himself. 

Ranboo wasn’t Tommy. But sometimes he’d see how Phil and Ranboo laughed and talked as they fixed up the bee farm and he saw Tommy. He wasn’t there, he’d never be there again, but sometimes he saw Tommy in mannerisms he didn’t make and speech patterns that didn’t sound like his and he missed it. 

He was being unfair. He’d let others in before. Even when Tommy had intruded and riffled through all his stuff, he’d let him in. He couldn’t let Ranboo in. 

Technoblade was cold. And tired. And angry. And he wished he could plunge his sword through something solid and be done with it. 

“Ah… Hello?”

Ranboo’s familiar voice was enough to keep Techno from vaulting straight to his feet with his sword ready, but he hadn’t heard Ranboo approach. He sat upright, the snow that had fallen on him scattering.

Ranboo was cowering-- no, he was slouched under a tree, bent to keep his head out of the dense pine needles. His netherite shone just barely but his eyes were strangely bright, wide and unblinking as he stared down at Techno. He might have looked concerned. Techno felt like he looked concerned. His chest hurt. 

“Technoblade,” Ranboo breathed out, like he’d wake up the night if he spoke too loudly. “What… what are you doing out here?”  
“What are _you_ doing out here?” Techno shot back so aptly, genuinely confused and perhaps a little embarrassed having been found moping in the snow. At the least, Ranboo seemed a little embarrassed too. He made a shrill, staticky sound low in the back of his throat, rubbing the back of his neck, 

“I ah… I can’t sleep. Much.” He said it like a secret. “So I just… I walk through the forest a lot. It’s quiet.”

“It’s dangerous,” Technoblade pointed out. Ranboo just shrugged his shoulders weakly, like that was the least of his concern. Protest bubbled up in his throat almost on instinct. “Ranboo, it’s _dangerous._ ”

“I-I can handle myself.” He sounded candid, just stating a fact, but it was more than true, Techno realized. Ranboo walked a few steps forward, out from under the foliage and stood tall. Techno had to crane his head far back to look at him but was quick to look away. “I mean. I have a full netherite of like… everything. And more. It’s hard to find anything dangerous here so don’t worry.”

“...wasn’t worried.”

Ranboo laughed, but didn’t comment any more. Techno didn’t say anything else, didn’t move at the wet cold seeping in through his cold and scathing against his skin. He just watched Ranboo lowly, recalling Phil’s words. 

“The snow hurts you.” It wasn’t a question, just Techno stating the obvious. The snow fell light and soft, but it hissed like lava against Ranboo’s skin as it fell. He barely flinched, but he still did. 

“What? Oh, uh. Yeah. Water. Enderman.” He pointed to the sky, then pointed to himself, like Techno needed to be shown what he was referring to. He seemed to realize himself and tangled his fingers together, muttering something Techno couldn’t quite here. He decided to ignore his anxiety.

“But that’s _more_ reason not to be out here. There’s snow _everywhere._ ” Techno groaned it out as he finally picked himself up to his feet, shaking his head and scattering the snow from him. He wrinkled his nose at it all. “You should head to your shack.”

“Snow’s there too, though.” He said it with a chuckle, and techno wrinkled his nose. “Besides I, uh, I like the snow.”

Techno practically recoiled at the confession, snorting and shaking his head. “You _like_ the snow? What no you don’t you’re lying.” Ranboo’s laugh was almost shrill, curled in with that just barely human sound. “I do! I really do!

“You know, I’d never actually lived anywhere cold. At least that I remember. And i never seen so much ice and snow before you and Phil took down L’Manberg.” he stopped himself dead, something like stark realization on his face before he burst into laughter. He doubled over, Techno left to watch him wheeze out breaths, feeling like he was really missing out on something.

“S-sorry! Sorry, it’s just…” He gasped out, hands rubbing his eyes. “Just… of all things to be thankful that L’manberg is gone for, I didn’t think it’d be seeing _snow._ ”

Technoblade stared not-quite at him. His chest ached. “... but it hurts you,” he said finally, words light like it was all about something else now. “It hurts you. You can’t like it.”

Ranboo shrugged, again, but almost giddier this time. “I think you’re wrong. It hurts yeah but… it’s nice. Kind of. I like how it all looks and how it’s all different but _not really._ It’s nice. I just… can’t let it hurt. That much.”

Technoblade stared at the snow, down at the tightly stamped down footprints and disturbed underbrush. It was silent for a long time, but not uncomfortable. Until Techno broke it with a scoff. “That’s weird. You’re weird.”

Ranboo’s laugh sounded almost like a purr. Techno hadn’t heard that one before, or maybe he hadn’t noticed. 

He stood differently, too. Techno saw it, the once anxious and panicked traits he carried when in Techno’s presence had smoothed down to gentle mannerisms; the twiddling of his fingers, that inability to hold eye contact that Techno found himself relating to, the way he subtly rocked back and forth on his toes. He wasn’t afraid of Techno anymore. He didn’t know that had changed. 

Or maybe he didn’t notice.

“It’s cold,” Techno blurted out, internally cursing to himself. Ranboo shot himself a confused look, expecting more that Techno didn’t have. “It’s… cold. Does that bother you?”

He thought a moment, his forked tongue flicking out as he hummed like he was sampling the air. “Well… a little. It ah. Keeps me up. But it’s fine!” He barked out, waving his hands. I’m getting used to it!”

That didn’t sit well with him. “...getting used to it.” Ranboo seemed to take that as concern, and maybe he actually was. He started rattling on, words of ‘it’s alright’ and ‘I’m fine I swear’ and thanks for his shelter, as if letting Ranboo onto Techno’s vast lands was akin to a bloodpact. 

“Come home,” Technoblade interrupted, saying the words slow and sedated, “and stay in the house.”

Ranboo was dead silent for a long moment, giving Techno more and more time to steel himself over. “Wh… Techno, I couldn’t--”

“It’s not a question!” He barked it out, doing his best to look towering and intimidating to someone who was far taller than him. “It’s cold out. Phil was sayin’ the snow won’t stop for a long while. I… can make room.”

He was stumbling over his words, choking on excuses. “Wait! But I-- It’s fine! I’ll be all fine Techno! You don’t _have_ to have my own house without… walls…. Well the dogs are warm and--”

“Ranboo,” Technoblade’s voice is gruff, making him fall silent in his tracks. “I wouldn’t do anything I didn’t want to. I'm offering _._ No wait, demanding.” He said, for a moment thinking the words would taste sour, but only to find he was telling the truth. 

He wasn’t saying anything, but Techno could practically see how he was arguing with himself, trying to figure out some way to reject it but knowing he couldn’t. 

He was stubborn. Tommy was stubborn. Techno let it hurt. 

:..Okay,” Ranboo sniffled, looking like he’d been sentenced to death rather than offered a warm bed. Techno snorted at it, shaking his head. “But only for tonight!”

“You can argue that with Phil.” He hummed, tilting his head up to the sky. The grey clouds were twisting and tumbling over themselves, a clear threat to the earth below. “C’mon, let’s go. Before it snows again.”

The walk back was cold, and silent, and something comfortable. The house wasn’t far, the light of the torches out front blazing between the trees. The walls of his home were welcoming them with something different, enticing for the first time in a while.

**Author's Note:**

> im over on tumblr at [shoezuki](https://shoezuki.tumblr.com/), and also twitter at [shoezuki](https://twitter.com/shoezuki) too, but im screamin more on tumblr. come over. scream


End file.
